


Lovers' Blessing

by dandelionsandbuttercups



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fix-It, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Slow Burn, is it a blessing or is it a curse? who knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23134651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionsandbuttercups/pseuds/dandelionsandbuttercups
Summary: Soon after Yennefer and then Jaskier part ways with Geralt on the mountain top, he encounters and offends a mage that puts a curse on him that drives him to be obsessed with finding his true love. The one that his heart desires the most. The idea of the curse is that Witchers have no feelings, aren’t capable of feeling love for anyone. The mage believes that Geralt will wander in a frenzy searching for someone that doesn’t exist, that he will wander aimlessly until he either dies or loses his sanity. Instead, the spell does pull him somewhere. In the beginning, he thinks it’s pulling him to Yennefer. It quickly becomes clear that that’s not the case when he gets closer to the coast. The pull of the curse brings him to a heartbroken, despondent Jaskier who’d traveled to the coast alone. Now Geralt has to face his feelings for Jaskier and also give his bard a heartfelt apology.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 29
Kudos: 217





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! You can call me B. So, this is my first ever fic. Please be kind to me! I based it off of my tumblr post because I just couldn't get the idea off of my mind. Had to write these dumb men a fix-it fic. Not sure on a posting schedule yet, but I'll try to have the next chapter up sooner rather than later if you people actually like my messy writing.

Geralt tilted his head at the lord, golden eyes narrowing just slightly in the barest show of irritation. He shifted the bag of coin in his palm, the weight of it much lighter than he’d prefer. 

“Only 200? Thought we’d agreed on 600.” 

The rough edge to his voice belied his true displeasure, although the shrewd looking lord did not seem cowed by it. Geralt had dispatched the griffin that had been terrorizing the lord’s province, and he damn well wanted to get paid what he was owed. Only two hundred wasn’t even going to get him a nice room in an inn. Which normally he wouldn’t care about, but he’d been staying in villages much more frequently now. The Witcher had been staying in villages and asking around much more frequently for… For Jaskier, to find the bard and regain his company. Not that he’d been admitting that reason to himself. Much. 

“Witcher, these are trying times. I’m sure you understand. A man’s got to keep his people fed.” 

Well, if that answer wasn’t a clear lie then he didn’t know what was. Half the village looked to be poor and half-starved while the greedy lord looked well-fed. Not that Geralt was one to judge about appearance, but clearly the lord’s coin was going to himself and not out to his villagers. The lie was clear. Greedy. Shameful. And he was just angry enough to call him out on it instead of keeping his mouth shut like he maybe ought to.

“Ah, so you’re a liar and a cheat then? Fine, I’ll take the coin,” came Geralt’s gruff answer, fully intended to be rough and mocking. 

The lord looked properly enraged by the comment, but who would dare speak out against a Witcher? Not anyone who feared them so, like the lord clearly did. His face looked puckered as if he’d swallowed something sour, but he bit back whatever smart comment he clearly wanted to lob back. 

What Geralt hadn’t anticipated though was the derisive scoff that came from the mage seated at the lord’s side. He hadn’t been paying her much attention before outside of his general awareness, but now his stare shifted to her. She was decked out in robin’s egg blue, an intricate dress that was half hidden under the dining table that her and the lord were seated at. Her forest green eyes sparked with much more anger than the lord’s did, and she rose from her chair towards him. The mage’s hand brushed the lord’s shoulder fondly. 

Ah, so they were involved. 

Over the years, he’d gathered the knowledge that many mages despised the nobles they served, but it wasn’t too uncommon for there to be affairs. He hadn’t seen it before, but there was no mistaking the affection that had just been displayed. 

Her feet stomped noisily the whole way, the loud thumping against the cobbled floor grating on his sensitive hearing. Her blue dress swayed in the air as she moved, continuing forward, giving her the almost regal air that seemed to follow most sorceresses. 

“Witcher… Must you be so rude? I think I have the perfect solution for you, to pay you back for your offense towards my love,” she drawled out slowly, sounding as if she were bored with him even as he could see that distinctive spark of anger reflected in the hardness of her gaze. 

Unexpectedly, she placed a gentle hand right over his heart. He wrenched back from her touch, but the damage was done. He could already feel whatever magic she’d just performed taking hold on him, bringing him crashing to the floor on his knees as it worked through him. 

She laughed at his weakened state, the sound echoing throughout the room. Her giggling high and sweet like tinkling bells. “Geralt of Rivia, if you were a normal man then this would be a great gift, but as it were I think the Lovers’ Blessing is rather wasted on you. It’s good for me though, you’ve upset my love with your harsh words so now it’s my turn to upset you. What is usually a blessing is now a curse, have you started feeling the pull yet? It’s supposed to take a person towards their true love, but you and I both know that Witchers are incapable of something as pure as love. I imagine it will tug you to multiple places and grow stronger until you cannot rest. You will wander ceaselessly, never able to settle until you go mad or die.” 

Geralt grit his teeth, shuddering as the magic seemed to almost snap, finally taking full root. He was loathe to admit it, but her curse had worked. He was feeling the need to move, get up, go. His body trembled, muscles straining as he fought the urge to get out of the lord’s estate. He could already tell it was a fruitless battle, even his ironclad control wilting when faced with an urge this strong. 

“Begone, Witcher,” the mage sneered, “may we never see you again.” 

Geralt rose to his full height, feeling as if he was not fully in control of his own movements as he quickly made his way out of the estate. He pushed the exiting doors open so hard that the dense wood splintered under his gloved palms in his haste. When he returned to find Roach where he’d left her outside the gates of the estate, he was able to fight through the spell enough to give her a stroke along her side in greeting before swinging a leg over to get into the saddle. He led her onto the dusty path where the two of them made their way into the inky night with Geralt having her travel much faster than he normally would in the dark to help quell his need to move. 

The Lovers’ Blessing… The curse was a hindrance in more ways than one, it was already pulling him towards the opposite way he wanted to go. Before taking that damned lord’s griffin contract he’d been traveling towards Oxenfurt. He’d been hearing rumors in the villages that he’d traveled to recently that Jaskier would be there, perhaps playing a festival in the academic city. But now, the curse was taking him in the exact opposite direction, away from where he could see his -- no -- the bard again. He knew that he had a lot to apologize for after the words he’d said to Jaskier on the mountain, but it seemed that the apology would have to wait just a little longer. He’d have to find another mage first that could fix this mess. Then he’d be back on his original path. It's already been four months since that horrible day on the mountain. Surely Jaskier could wait for him a little while longer, their friendship has to be fixable. 

It has to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and Yennefer enters the ring, knowing way too much for Geralt’s liking.

Geralt’s starting to think that the mage might have been wrong. The curse is definitely pulling at him like she’d said it would. He can feel the thrum of it down to his bones but it’s not directing him towards multiple places like she’d assumed.

No. It’s driving him towards one place—towards someone. And that’s terrifying in more ways than he cares to admit to himself. Who would want to be shackled to a Witcher? Could love a Witcher? No one, that’s who. 

The only answer as to who it could be that he can think of is Yennefer, and she’d made her stance on being tied to him perfectly clear on the mountain. She wanted nothing more to do with him, and Geralt was sure that she’d be just as displeased if he found her soon and she were to know that he’d fucked up yet again and bound them together with more than one type of magic. 

He still thinks back on Yennefer and the time they’d spent together fondly. He does still miss her, but his emotions concerning her aren’t feeling as all-consuming as they had been before that day on the mountain. Hers isn’t the absence that he’s been feeling the most. 

That honor of course goes to Jaskier. Jaskier, who he’s traveled on and off with for years. Jaskier, who’s dedicated his pathetically short human life to improving Geralt’s reputation and chronicling his adventures. Jaskier, who has never been afraid of him like everyone else. Jaskier, who’d stuck by the Witcher through every harsh word Geralt had thrown at him until he’d all but ordered him to leave. 

He’d taken all of the bard’s unconditional kindness for granted, practically spit on it and threw it in the dirt in his bout of anger like the unfeeling monster he’d never wanted to be seen as. He’d never realized how oppressive and lonely that silence could become until he’d started to experience life without the bard, without his cheerful background chatter that Geralt had come to rely on to light up his otherwise dreary days. 

He needed to find Jaskier. Apologize to him. Right his wrongs and show the bard that he could treat him better than he had before. 

Which is exactly why this curse was particularly troublesome and he needed to get rid of it as soon as possible. If he was right and it was taking him towards Yennefer then there was no telling when or if he’d find Jaskier. It was hard enough to resist Yennefer's draw with just one spell binding them together but now there would be two. He feared it would be impossible to resist at that point. 

So far, Geralt had learned that he could resist the curse’s added urgency to move for around a day or a day and a half if he was feeling especially strong-willed. Past that, the overwhelming need consumed him and drove him to sprint out of inns. He’d even gone so far as to burst awake late at night after losing track of time-- gathering up his things quickly and racing towards the stables to mount Roach and be on his way. 

When he lingered too long in one place, the curse became an ever present itching that lingered under the skin and bordered on pain. Impossible to ignore, although he’d tried his absolute damndest to do so. It’d done him no good though, his resistance only made his condition worsen until he’d traveled enough distance to have passed a couple villages away from his last location. 

There was no relief to be had, just less intensity of that unsettled feeling in his mind and the itching laced in within his skin when he finally got tired of fighting the pull. There would be no relief until the Witcher either found someone capable of breaking the curse or he found whoever the curse had bound him to. 

—

Of course as soon as he begins thinking of Yennefer he manages to run into her. As if mere thoughts are enough to summon her presence, as foolish as that notion is. They are never able to keep away from each other too long because of the djinn’s enchantment.

It’s now been months since the mountain, not that Geralt has really been keeping track of the time. It has been around two weeks since he’d been cursed though, the Witcher has been keeping up with time passing regarding that. He’s been riding for four days of those two weeks now after he’s stopped fighting against the pull and letting the magic take him further. He’s passed by multiple small villages and only stopped for a few hours in the surrounding wilderness to rest, eat, and let Roach graze to her heart’s content. 

It’s been four days without a bath, four days without a bed, and four days without truly letting Roach rest. 

Unacceptable. 

The next village he comes upon, he makes a point to stop at. The curse is a dull thrum within him, a prickling itch in his skin that he could just stand to ignore so he deems it safe to quit moving for now. 

It’s quick work to find the nearest inn and get Roach set up in the stables, instructing the stablehand to give her only the healthiest of grains. And then he’s pushing open the inn doors and getting greeted with that unfortunately familiar sour smell of too many humans packed into one place together. Although, Geralt’s sure at this point that he probably doesn’t smell much better in comparison. 

Spotting the innkeeper he’s eager to get the necessary small talk over with. 

“How much for a room and a bath?” 

“50, Witcher. Will you be needing a meal too? Because that’ll cost ya 20 more.”

“Won’t be necessary,” he answers, the slight inhalation from his nose the only sign that he was a bit irritated at the price. He hands over the coin wordlessly and is handed the room key in return. 

“I’ll send up someone to fill your bath soon.”

He nods, beginning to walk away but thinks better of it at the last second instead inclining his head and pausing for a moment. 

“Does this village have a mage? I have need of one,” he asks, giving the barest hint of information possible. 

The innkeeper’s answer is quick, “Aye, we do. She’s an unruly one, she shacked up in the big cottage up on the hill a little while ago. Wouldn’t go near her myself, but I imagine you could manage to stand her, Witcher.” 

“Hm. Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

An unruly sorceress? That could be any of them.

And with that information finally gathered, Geralt was off for a steaming hot bath and a proper night’s rest. 

—

Geralt woke up early in the morning, when the sun’s bright rays were just beginning to rise in the sky. It was better to get a headstart on finding the mage’s lodgings in order to get this curse done away with while he still had full control of himself. No use in waiting and having to fight with himself on staying in one place. 

If the mage wasn’t as early a riser as Geralt, well, she was about to be. 

Finding the cottage on the hill that the innkeeper mentioned was easy, it only took a short trek through the small village. After walking up the marked trail on the hill, he knocked on the cottage doors to alert the mage to his presence. 

The wooden door opens slowly with a low creak, and then he’s face to face with Yennefer of Vengerberg for the first time since the mountain. 

Her violet eyes rake him over, and she looks none too pleased at his sudden appearance on her doorstep. 

“Geralt,” she says, drawing out his name slowly, “to what do I owe seeing you again? I thought I’d made my intentions very clear.” 

Despite the icy tone, she does swing the door open further and steps aside to let him walk into the cottage. He steps inside, and before he can even begin to answer her, her gaze sweeps over him again but this time her violet eyes are glazed over slightly. Looking past his physical form to something deeper. 

He can see the moment she detects the curse, her crimson painted lips curling upwards into a sort-of smirk. She tilts her head just slightly to her left side, her lengthy raven hair swishing with the movement. 

“Ah, I see it now. That’s strong magic, Geralt. I can sense it tugging on you even now,” Yennefer informs him, trailing off as if there’s more to say but she’s thinking carefully on her words. 

“Can you remove it?” he asks, getting directly to the point. He’d rather not have to play word games with her if he can help it. 

“I could, but I won’t. Have you even figured out who it’s pulling you towards?” she asks, her words sharp with finality. 

Geralt knows Yennefer well enough to know she’s made her decision and that she will stick by it. She won’t help him. 

“Why?” he demands, his gloved hands clenching at his sides, the leather grinding together and making a small creaking noise that seems loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

He’d like to ignore her question, but he also knows that the sorceress would never let him get away with it. 

“I had thought it might’ve been taking me towards you…” he mutters, looking anywhere but at her face. He’d thought that before, but it hadn’t escaped his notice that he was still feeling that tugging sensation. He’d found Yennefer but he was still itching to move, so the curse couldn’t have been directing him towards her if he could still feel it’s power. 

She gives a rather unladylike snort at that, not that Yennefer’s ever cared about proper etiquette before. Raises one dark eyebrow up at him. 

“Now, now, Geralt. I know we left things rather poorly on the mountain, but you and I both ought to know that we are wholly incompatible. At least, as we are now,” she mused, tilting her chin to look up at him and meet his gaze head on.  
After a brief pause, seemingly parsing out her words if her furrowed expression is anything to go by, she continues again. 

“What we had between us wasn’t true love… And this magic proves it. Whoever it’s pulling you towards has impacted your life so much so that it’s created this strong of a connection for the magic to lock onto. Once you find them, you won’t be bound together like you and I. It’s only drawing on what was already there, whether you realize it or not. This could be a good thing for you, and that’s why I won’t break it.”  
She leaves him no room for argument, and her eyes glint like she knows something that Geralt doesn’t. He grits his teeth at the irritation that causes. 

“Yen,” he utters, voice coming out more pleading than he’d ever heard himself before. 

“...I don’t know who it’s taking me to…” 

Her lips quirk upwards. 

“Well, I think I do. And if I’m right, which I usually always am, you will be pleasantly surprised in the end.” 

He sighs, a heavy gust of air exiting his parted lips. Really, he should’ve known he would get no answers from Yennefer. As much as she’s blunt, she can also be as cryptic as any other mage. 

Geralt stands stock still as Yennefer steps into his space, doesn’t move as she lays a slender, warm hand near the crook of his arm. That barest hint of softness that she only rarely lets show all too familiar to him. 

“Take my advice, leave here and at least let yourself see who it’s taking you to. Just because what we had wasn’t love doesn’t mean that you can’t be loved or return love to another.”

—

Later, when Geralt has left her cottage, Yennefer waves her hand through the air with an impish grin pulling her lips upward. Her magic having effectively conjured a rather large vial of oil into one of Geralt’s bags. If the bard forgives him, which Yennefer’s sure he will after Geralt grovels long enough, the Witcher might find the vial rather useful to have on hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my Witcher sideblog if anyone wants to come yell in my askbox about these boys: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bemy-thrillforever
> 
> And my post that started it all: https://bemy-thrillforever.tumblr.com/post/190709551813/soon-after-yennefer-and-then-jaskier-part-ways


End file.
